The Love That Will Never Be
by Dyavol's Angel
Summary: Ivan has never known love or ever had any friends. A voice in his head keeps pushing him. How will he deal with his emotions? RusAme. AU. Real names used
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Hetalia**

**Warning: you'll see**

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_**This is the way the world ends**_

_**Not with a bang but a whimper.**_

** -T.S. Eliot**

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Quiet whispers bounced off the white walls; Ivan sat on his twin sized bed rocking himself back and forth. It was the only thing Katyusha allowed in his room for fear that he'd hurt himself somehow. His small closet only contained clothes, but they were thrown haphazardly.

**_Ivan you're crazy_**

The Russian placed his head on his fluffy white pillow and stared at his cat from across the room. He smiled softly, his cat understood him; at least his cat liked him. He turned away to face the ceiling. All his life he'd been alone, except for the family he had. His mother had died and left them with their abusive father. He killed her and Ivan couldn't do anything about it.

**_That's right, it's your fault!_**

An explosion of red decorated his walls; his father staggered to the floor. Ivan stared down at the man that had beaten him senseless ever since his mother died. The metal pipe was heavy in his hand; icy blue looked at violet and without mercy Ivan slammed the faucet pipe into his father's skull. A loud crunch echoed in his ears, but he didn't stop there. No he had to make sure this man was dead, so he bashed and bashed until a shrill scream sounded from his open door and the pipe fell from his hands and clashed against the floor. He looked in Katyusha's frightened blue eyes; Natalya was behind her with wide eyes.

"Vanya?"

Ivan looked up at his older sister; he had somehow ended up on the floor in one corner. "Your friend is here," she looked a little uneasy. To her knowledge he didn't have any friends. "Send him in," he said quietly. He had almost forgotten he'd asked Alfred to come over. His cat slipped out behind his sister and he decided to make his way back to his bed.

A bouncy blonde walked into his room and shut the door, "Dude, your little sister is scary." Ivan chuckled a little, "She's only being protective." Alfred looked around; he'd never seen a room so . . . plain. There wasn't anything on the walls or any furniture in sight, just a bed. "You can sit on my bed Alfred," Ivan said drawing his legs up to his chest. "Ok dude; what'd you call me for anyway," Alfred sat beside the Russian uncomfortably.

"Tell me how you feel," Ivan said. This was important to the Russian; Alfred was the only person that had considered him a friend. He just needed to know how Alfred felt about them because he was quite confused himself and he didn't like the feelings that were growing in him. He had never felt anything like it before.

**_He doesn't like you stupid, it's just pity_**

Ivan was shoved to the ground and his face getting scratched up by dirt and rocks. He lifted his head just to see Gilbert standing over him and laughing. He wanted to cry, he'd never done anything to Gilbert but he always seemed to pick on him. Sometimes he'd even gotten others to join. He looked at all the faces laughing at him. That Mongolian kid was there, even Mathias and Berwald. Ivan placed his face back in the dirt, maybe if he didn't move they would forget about him. He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder, he looked up and a hyperactive blonde boy gave him a smile.

"Dude?"

"Hey Ivan, you in there? I asked what you meant," Alfred shook the Russian's shoulder. Ivan snapped out of his memories, "Do you like me Alfred?"

Alfred looked confused, "Of course dude, we've been friends since elementary school." Alfred gave the Russian a warm smile, but Ivan was not satisfied with this answer. He didn't know what he was feeling , but he just needed to know. "No Alfred, do you like me as more than a friend," Ivan tried again.

Oh. Alfred honestly didn't know. He looked at the Russian's face, his dull blonde hair, his violet eyes, his big nose, his childish smile. He didn't feel a thing; what was he supposed to say? Ivan looked at the American expectantly. "No, I'm sorry Ivan, I kinda like someone else."

**_I told you, you stupid bitch_**

Ivan felt his heart break in his chest, as if his heart was beating against his ribs trying to break free. He needed to be alone now. He turned away from Alfred, "Leave!" He hadn't meant to yell, but he didn't want to cry in front of Alfred. He couldn't deal with this.

**_You only have me, hahaha!_**

Alfred felt bad, but Ivan didn't want him here so it was time to go. Alfred got off the bed and made his way out the bedroom. Once he was outside the closed door he heard a faint 'click' and he waited. Something was tugging at the edge of his mind and his heart was hammering in his chest. Natalya glared at him from her position on the couch, almost daring him to look away. Alfred felt anxious, what was he waiting for? He took a step towards his exit and his ears rang loud and clear.

Katyusha screamed from the kitchen; Natalya's eyes grew wide. Alfred felt like he was going to hurl. Ivan would never do such a thing, he could never. Would he? He turned around and slammed Ivan's door open.

"Oh god!" Tears instantly rushed to his eyes. Ivan's body lay on his bed like any sleeping person would; except Ivan wasn't sleeping he was dead. Blood had splattered the white walls and his carefully knitted quilt. His eyes were open and bloodshot, but the rest of his face was smiling; a terrifying sight. This is not what Alfred wanted; this was not supposed to happen at all.

Alfred rushed over to the Russian, he didn't want to believe this. He closed Ivan's eyes and sat on the bed. He picked his head up carefully and began cradling him as if he were just an upset child. Alfred squeezed his eyes tightly and cried into Ivan's hair. He didn't care if he sounded horrible, losing Ivan was too much. Where had Ivan even gotten the gun from? There was nowhere to hide it.

Two more cries joined his, but those were much louder and accented. It all sounded far away from him.

Heroes don't let people die; he wasn't a hero; he couldn't even save one friend.

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**Ivan I am so sorry!**

**Does this deserve another chapter for Alfred's feelings?**

**I will leave the story In-Progress until I get an answer.**


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred held his head in his hands; this had been his entire fault. Ivan would have never shot himself if he had said how he really felt. He really had not known how he felt about the Russian, but he'd never had feelings like that for any one; how was he supposed to know how he felt? Alfred thought that feeling growing inside him just meant that Ivan was close to him. If that's all it had been why did his heart hurt so much? He'd had a month to get over his hurt, but it was still there just as fresh as when the incident had happened.

Alfred sat down by the grave marker; he should have been in school, but this is where he spent most of his time now. He hugged the sunflower he had brought, to his chest. "Ivan would love these," he whispered, referring to the rest of the fake suns he'd laid on the grave. He brought one for each day that passed even though Ivan wasn't really there. His sisters had decided to move away and took Ivan's body with them to Russia, his motherland.

The breezy blue sky above was starting to fill up with dark gray clouds; it was typical spring weather, but Alfred didn't mind. It matched the mood of his thoughts; he laid back in the soft green grass as he closed his eyes. The wind caressed his hair as his mind went someplace else.

_"Fredka," a violet eyed boy yelled, "I bet you can't beat me to the swings!" Alfred smiled at the challenged, "Heroes never lose Vanya." The two boys raced to the only available swing, but it ended in a tie; so the two pulled and pulled until the swing snapped out of their grip. "I have an idea," Alfred smiled at his suggestion and he pushed Ivan into the seat of the swing. Ivan's blushed so bright when Alfred sat in his lap. "Now we both get to swing," he laughed._

_Ivan had convinced Alfred to join the soccer team and he was nervous; soccer was not his strong point, he preferred all American football, but Ivan was not interested in that at all. During practice they were working on their passing and while Alfred had the ball, he'd managed to trip and sent the ball flying right at Ivan's face. Ivan stared at the smaller boy in annoyance, "Could you not trip over your own two feet." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I told you I wasn't any good at this," Alfred scratched the back of his head while sitting in the grass._

_The next year was spent on petty fighting; they would never hit each other, but the words they sent flying out of their mouths hurt twice as much. They competed with each other with just about anything. They'd gotten suspended from school several times, but that didn't even stop them; they'd argue and laugh in each other's faces until they had to go separate ways._

_After that they were a little wary around the other, but here Ivan was in Alfred's backyard staring at the vast night sky. "Alfred, promise we won't fight any more; I don't ever want to lose you like that again," Ivan whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Alfred smiled up at stars, "I promise, Vanya." Ivan hugged his friend a little too tight for Alfred's liking, but he returned the hug. "You're my comrade, my hero, Fredka," the words brushed against Alfred's ear causing him to shiver. They both lay back in the grass. "What do you think is up there, in space," Ivan asked. "Aliens," Alfred shouted as Ivan chuckled to himself._

_Alfred stared down at his bloody hands; no, this wasn't supposed to happen, never supposed to happen, it just couldn't. He was supposed to be a hero, his hero. Heroes don't let these kinds of things happen, because heroes save people, not cause them to die. He stared down at the Russian; he could have passed for sleeping, but didn't. Pale hair was tainted red and consuming Alfred as he held the man. "I hope you are somewhere where sunflowers grow because your comrade, your hero, has failed to save you," he cried out._

"Alfred!"

Alfred shot up as his heart fluttered in his chest and his hair dripped rain. His hands moved to the corner of his eye. Had he been crying? "Alfred, get up, you'll catch a cold if you stay out here." He looked at the face of the all too familiar voice, "Go home Artie, tell mom I'll be there soon." Everyone knew you'd only get the cold if you caught the virus. Arthur tapped his foot as he stood under his green umbrella, "Mom, Mattie and I are really worried about you Alfie. Come home please." Alfred regarded him for a second and waved his hand, "Give me a minute."

Arthur respected his wishes and began walking away. Alfred placed the sunflower he held with the rest and stood, his clothes weighing heavy with water. He looked up into the rainy clothes and closed his eyes.

"I love you Ivan."

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**I've noticed in all of my stories someone either dies or gets hurt in some way. I'm a horrible person, but it seems I can't stop.**


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